A Villain's Will to Survive-Chapter 168: Advancement (4) Part 2

Yulie awoke at dawn, her first instinct to check the state of her heart. The sharp, tearing pain that had once greeted her each morning noticeably lessened.

"At least this means I won’t be meeting my end today," Yulie murmured.

As was her routine, she stepped into the corridor, where the air felt unnaturally crisp—sharper, clearer than she remembered. On the wall hung a painting she had not noticed before.

"... Hmm."

The moment Yulie’s eyes fell upon the landscape painting, she offered a small nod of approval. It was an unbidden gesture, born of quiet admiration, as natural as a breath.

Winter

Beyond the wall of Rekordak, the canvas captured the dreamlike essence of the unexplored region’s landscape. The simple title, Winter, felt almost inevitable, fitting it with tranquil perfection.

“Could this be Reylie’s work...”

Reylie was the only one in Rekordak known to paint, making the work likely hers. She seemed to have grown significantly. Even to someone like Yulie, who had no eye for art, the painting’s beauty was undeniable, filling her with a surprising sense of pride.

Yulie was about to step outside, satisfaction evident in her movements, when her eyes caught sight of someone through the window overlooking the training grounds. It was Deculein. Beneath a dawn sky of frozen indigo, glinting like a jewel in the cold, he ran with steady discipline and flawless form, his motions precise and resolute.

Grind—

Her teeth clenched, and her nails dug into her palms as a fire surged within her, threatening to rise, but Yulie forced it down, her mind retreating into the rhythmic counting of time and numbers.

"Thirty seconds, one lap."

Thirty seconds per lap. It was something she had known before, but witnessing it again only deepened her realization of how extraordinary Deculein’s physical abilities were—far beyond what most could ever dream to achieve.

"Two... three... four..."

Yulie counted softly under her breath, waiting for Deculein to complete his run.

"Seventy-seven."

By the time he finished, thirty minutes had passed, and his total reached seventy-seven laps. No magic or mana had been involved—only raw physical endurance. Even in comparison to the knights, his performance was nothing short of extraordinary. As Deculein retreated to his mansion, Yulie finally stepped onto the training grounds.

Standing still at the heart of the training grounds, she drew the cold, crystalline air deep into her lungs, its frost kissing her skin.

"One, two! One, two!"

She took deep, steady breaths, moving through stretches and light exercises to loosen her stiff joints. Only then did she begin to run, her pace deliberate and rhythmic, as if each step carried purpose.

“I will not lose.”

The goal was to match Deculein’s thirty minutes with seventy-seven laps. The curse on her heart had drained her stamina more than anything else, rendering the task daunting. However, as Yulie recalled the sight of him running, her determination flared to life. No matter the cost, she would not lose to that villain...

***

At 10 a.m., in the cramped conference room of Rekordak, I sat at the head of the table. The space, little more than a hundred square meters, felt suffocating, crammed to the brim with over two hundred knights and mages.

My irritation simmered—no, it was far beyond mere annoyance. The claustrophobic atmosphere unraveled my focus, scattering my thoughts like autumn leaves in the wind.

“One hundred thirty-seven applicants,” I said, skimming the roster of knights and mages. Among them were Yulie, Ihelm, and even Epherene—one hundred thirty-seven had volunteered for the process of reducing the numbers. "This afternoon, we will begin practical training, aiming to forge these individuals into functional teams."

Assessing the strengths and weaknesses of all one hundred thirty-seven individuals was a task of simple clarity. My aim was to forge the most efficient teams—ones that, ideally, would suffer no casualties.

"Furthermore, we will secure the supply routes and clear the roads leading to the rear."

"Oh? Professor," the warden said, his voice cautious as he interjected. "The roads aren’t meant to connect internally. Were they to do so, and if the wall of Rekordak were to collapse, it would accelerate the monsters' advance exponentially—"

"It will not collapse," I said, my eyes resolute as they met the warden. With a subtle tilt of my chin, I gestured toward the knights and mages gathered nearby. "This wall was built to endure. However, with defeat already taking root in your minds, it is no wonder Rekordak languishes in such disrepair."

"... My apologies," the warden said, bowing deeply, his frame hunched in contrition.

I returned to the matter at hand and continued, "From this point onward, I will ensure that all performance will be measured, and that just rewards or penalties are meted out with both precision and fairness. And—"

Bang—

"Professor! A decree from the Imperial Palace has arrived!" the messenger announced, his voice echoing as he burst through the door.

Though a fleeting spark of annoyance passed through me, I nodded and said, "Bring it here."

“Here it is, Professor!”

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The messenger handed me the decree, a regal document sealed with the Empress's mark. Its grandeur suggested weighty matters, however, the words within betrayed it, burdened with trivialities that mocked its stately presentation.

With a resigned sigh, I said, "... Furthermore, by order of the Empress, a Go tournament will be held here in Rekordak. Take time to familiarize yourselves with the game whenever you can; it may prove useful. For the record, I have no intention of participating."

***

"... What is this?" Sophien muttered, a sharp frown tugging at her brow.

Seated within the Imperial Palace, the Empress studied the stack of petitions cluttering her desk. Each was a declaration of intent, offered by the imperial mages.

Eunuch Jolang stepped forward, bowing deeply, and said, "Your Majesty, the imperial mages have submitted these petitions, requesting assignments to Rekordak."

“... What did you just say?”

The Empress stared in disbelief, the absurdity of the situation defying all logic. Even with her sharp intuition, she struggled to comprehend it.

"Mages aren’t fond of the cold, or so I’ve heard. Those cowards would never willingly venture to the Northern Region by their choice. Are you absolutely certain they’re asking to be sent to Rekordak?" Sophien remarked, nudging her oversized, round spectacles higher on her nose. They covered half her face, artifacts that aided her studies and her game of Go.

“Yes, Your Majesty. It is because of a rumor,” Jolang replied.

“Rumors?”

"The rumors claim that Professor Deculein has authored a wealth of exceptional works in Rekordak."

“It’s that man again?” Sophien let out a soft, incredulous laugh, adjusting the oversized spectacles perched precariously on her nose, too large and slipping constantly.

“Yes, Your Majesty. It is said that each of his writings holds such value, worthy of a place within the archives of the Floating Island.”

"... Hmph. So, they believe it’s worth risking frostbite and death, do they? So be it. But I cannot send them all. Select ten, and they will be sent forth."

"Yes, Your Majesty... However," Jolang said, bowing deeply, his form curling into itself like a pillbug. It was the stance he assumed when preparing to speak on matters of weight. "There is something Your Majesty once remarked during a game of Go with the Professor."

"Are you referring to the poisoning?" Sophien said, her voice devoid of concern, though it was the very scandal that had recently plunged the Imperial Palace into disarray.

Jolang’s entire body trembled as he stammered, "Y-yes, Majesty... Might he—"

"Deculein knows. He is aware of those who stand behind it all."

Jolang stayed silent.

"However, I will wait—until that man deems it time to speak of it."

Jolang’s breath faltered as he collapsed to the floor, his forehead pressed firmly against the ground, his voice trembling as he pleaded, "Your Majesty, have mercy—I am unworthy of forgiveness, and my ignorance warrants only death."

“What talk of death? Did you poison me yourself?”

"Never, Your Majesty! I would never dare! I deserve nothing but death, Your Majesty—!" Jolang cried, his voice cracking into a desperate squeal, thin and tremulous like a trapped insect.

Sophien let out a playful laugh, dismissing him with a wave of her hand as she said, "Enough of this. There is no need for such dramatics. Return to your duties—I have Go to study and am far too busy for such nonsense."

“Yes, Your Majesty. I remain deeply honored by your favor, Your Majesty..."

"Leave now, and don’t waste another moment of my time."

With Jolang gone, the stillness of the room mirrored the composed calm that settled over Sophien’s features, the weight of her thoughts drawing her into a contemplative silence.

“... How strange.”

She rested her chin on her hand, her eyes fixed upon the Go board before her. The dance of black and white stones no longer bored her; instead, she found herself consumed by a single thought—how Deculein would play in this moment.

Why does this hollow, unsettling feeling linger within me? I long for him to be here, standing before me. In this tedious, colorless existence, he was the spark that kindled even the faintest ember of meaning. If he were here now, perhaps this restless ache would finally fade. Could this persistent, irksome sensation, so impossible to ignore be that I miss him? Sophien thought.

"Tch. This is fucking ridiculous," Sophien muttered with a click of her tongue, shaking her head before turning her attention back to the Go board, immersing herself in the game once more.